The Ride - Chapter 20 The End of the Trail ...perhaps

[OMR]

It took Glen a moment to recognize that this might be another Sandy… but then, that didn’t make sense. There had already been one in the time phase and she was very dead… killed by the tribe of this warrior. Glen took the flashlight, flipped it on and leaned down further to examine the warrior’s face. The first thing he noticed was that she was more a girl than a woman. He figured maybe 18 or 19 at the most. Her slight body felt more muscular; but, yes, there were those same wide spaced eyes, although they were closed now. She had the same perfectly shaped face framed by golden hair and a mouth that never seemed to need lipstick. He use to kid his Sandy of long ago that she looked great. It didn’t matter whether she had just climbed out of a warm bed, stepped out of the shower or taking off her helmet after a long epic bike ride. She always looked beautiful. Just like this one

The girl/woman warrior stirred in his arms. Glen jumped and almost dropped the flashlight. Her eyes slowly opened and instead of those crystal blue that always reminded him of the sea, he saw a glowing yellow. They sat there on the ground just staring at each other. Glen quickly moved the light off of her face and set the flashlight down facing the surrounding trees. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

Although there had been a rather large amount of blood when he picked her up, he quickly realized that it had been the blood of the dog/cat animal. She seemed to have weathered the battle fairly well. One side of her body armor was torn and a small amount of blood was seeping through but other than a few cuts and abrasions, she seemed fine.

It was then that he felt the pick of a knife. Looking down, he saw that she still held the small blade that she had attached the beast with in her right hand and it was deliberately being held against his side. He smiled and shook his head which seemed to break the spell between them. Before he could react, she was out of his arms and crouched in front of him, her knife between the two of them. He smiled again and leaned back on his hands. She cocked her head, which made her golden hair fall in front of one of her eyes. Brushing it back, she tucked it behind her ear. That movement brought pangs of sadness from Glen. He had seen Sandy do exactly that hundreds of times.

He suddenly realized that they hadn’t said a word to each other. My name’s Glen, what’s yours? He asked. Again she cocked her head yet said nothing. He asked her again. But again, she said nothing. I’m assuming she speaks English, he thought… maybe she doesn’t. Now what? Glen rose slowly. The girl/woman warrior backed away. He walked over to his pack and rummaged through it until he had pulled out several energy bars. Unwrapping one, he tossed it over to her. She caught it in that quick cat-like movement. He made motions to eat with his hands. She looked suspiciously at the bar then at Glen. Glen took another bar, ripped the wrapper off and began eating. After seeing this, she slowly sat down and began to hesitantly eat as well. It wasn’t long before they had finished several more bars and some dried fruit-like rolls. Picking up the water sack which was almost empty, he took a small drink and handed it to her. He thought he detected a slight smile come to the corners of her mouth.

Glen got up and walked over to the fire which had burned very low. Throwing some more wood on the small fire brought more light and he could see that she still held the small sharp knife in her hand but it was no longer pointed at him. He picked up the brown plastic Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle and switched it off.

It was then that he suddenly broke out laughing. She sat up with the knife suddenly extended again towards Glen. Why in the heck was he running? He had had the key to all this in his hands for some time. All he had to do was to adjust the bezel to another time period and turn it on and it would take him out of this terrible place. He could have escaped at any time. He could have averted all the pain and suffering he had gone through merely by flipping the bloody thing on!!!… just as he had done so long ago in the park when they had surrounded him. He had escaped then and he could do it again.

He laughed again and even let out a whoop! The girl/woman warrior continued to gaze suspiciously at him but now had more of a questioning look on her beautiful face. She finally stuck her knife in the ground and continued to chew on the last remains of the fruit-like roll.

Glen again brought the body of the brown plastic Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle up to his eyes and slowly examined every square inch. Although he had examined the flashlight before and had noted that there were two distinct bezels, he still couldn’t make heads or tails of the symbols on them. They counted up to ten. Ten what? He then noticed that the inner bezel was actually several rings that fit closely together, yet moved as one. Perhaps that meant years? The symbols were too complex for him to figure out. Any time shifting he was going to do was a luck of the draw, but so far he had always shifted the rings in one direction. I wonder what would happen if he shifted them backwards, he thought.

Before he could examine the brown plastic Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle, a bloodcurdling scream came from high up on the hill. It was answered by another on the opposite side of the hill. The rest of the warrior tribe had found him. Glen quickly realized that there was no possibility of escape. They were faster, stronger, could see better in the dark and they carried long sharp knives meant for the cutting and slashing of skin.

Glen spun around and looked for the girl/woman warrior, but she had disappeared like a ghost. He was on his own now. He could hear the warriors crashing through the bushes, yelling as they came. The fire had again died down so that there was only a small circle of light. Glen stepped closer to the fire, glanced down at the brown plastic Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle and turned the inner bezel back a couple of clicks, then a couple more for good measure. The warriors were almost on him when he looked up. He could now see their yellow eyes. He flipped the flashlight on… and pressed the positive symbol on the button that was next to it…nothing happened! Glen glanced down and saw that the light was weak. Not enough power to actuate the time shift. What the hell! He could almost feel the warrior’s breaths. This was not the way he wanted to die, but it seemed it was destined to be so.

Suddenly, the girl/woman warrior was standing in front of him only facing the charging warriors. She held up her hand and screamed something once and all warriors stopped dead in their tracks. You could have heard a pin drop… if there had been a pin around. The girl/warrior slowly turned around and smiled at Glen. Glen smiled back until he saw that she still had that small dangerous knife in her hand. He had seen what she had done to the dog/cat and now it was quickly coming up toward him for a kill stroke. He suddenly realized that she was claiming her prize in blood. What the bloody hell! He had never moved so quickly. He blocked her thrust with the brown plastic Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle. Two things happened then in a split second. Her yellow eyes opened wide and the beam of the flashlight suddenly got brighter and the body became warm. That’s what he would remember, those beautiful yellow eyes just before the darkness closed around him.

Coming to, he felt like he was underwater swimming upwards. It was very hard to breath. His legs and arms felt heavy like they didn’t want to move… and he had had such strange dreams: midnight raids on bicycle shops with friends, jumping off the roof of his house, being chased by crazed biker warriors, strange large creatures that looked like a cross between a dog and a cat… only much bigger! And the craziest part was Sandy trying to kill him with a knife.

Glen felt the sun warm on his face. He opened his eyes and saw that there were people standing over him. People he recognized: Gene, George, Kevin, Chris… all riding buddies of his… and there were others he didn’t recognize. People from the fire department, paramedics, all put away their medical equipment. He realized that he was lying on the dirt. One of the medics was removing an oxygen mask from Glen’s face and rolling up the hose. You look like crap, Gene said. You really scared the hell out of us. You made it to the finish line then collapsed. Lucky the medics were immediately there! I need a beer!!!

Glen lifted himself up on his elbows and glanced around. There were riders all around him in various states of exhaustion. Some just stood resting against their bikes while others slumped to the ground. Memories began to flood back in. He had been racing a mountain bike in an event called the Vision Quest. Although there were plenty of Warriors around, they weren’t the kind that carried long sharp knives and they didn’t eat people… drank a lot of beer, yes… but no eating of people. But he continues to have other memories: driving a strange car through a desolate landscape with Sandy, being chased through a park by the police, Sandy getting hit by an SUV… and strangest of all, of a brown plastic Boy Scout flashlight with a compass in the handle…weird!

Hey Slowboy, we were a little worried about you! He instantly recognized that voice. He turned and saw Sandy standing there drinking a soda. He got shakily to his feet. His jersey was now stiff with sweat. Then sandy was in his arms and the bad dreams all disappeared. Everything was back to normal. He didn’t have to worry about warriors or dog/cat animals eating him. Hey, how’d I do in the race? Everyone laughed!

Epilog:

A couple of days later, Glen was itching to get back on the bike. His muscles had recovered and, although it was only Tuesday, he figured that he would take the morning off and go for a ride. The memories that had seemed so real of his previous rides had begun to fade already. Life had quickly returned to normal. Sandy had never been killed in a bike SUV accident, he had never robbed a local bicycle shop and he had never killed a tribe of warriors by blowing them up or shoving them into an ant pit. It just must have been strange hallucinations caused by heat exhaustion and dehydration… yes, that was it. But he could not explain the strange scar on the bridge of his nose. He had noticed it the next morning after the Vision Quest. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there… only a vague memory of a bike crash on a strange trail.

Shaking his head to clear the cobweb memories, he loaded his favorite 29er single speed into the back of the car, threw a helmet, gloves and water pack in as well. He had left a note for Sandy on the counter. She would read it after she had gotten up and have breakfast waiting for him after an hour’s short ride. After all, he was already anxious to get back home for a few “morning delights” with her. It was good to be alive.

Arriving at the trailhead parking lot, he had expected to see some of his buddies’ cars parked there, but the parking lot was deserted. I guess it’s just too early for most folk, Glen thought. He quickly pulled the bike out of the back. Donning the helmet and gloves, he signed in on the patrol board and pedaled down the gravel road to the entrance. He was behind on his patrol hours and needed to make some time up. The sun was just over the horizon and it was going to be another beautiful California day … just perfect for riding.

Riding down the main fire road, Glen thought, what could be better: a nice early morning bike ride, a wonderfully warm, alive woman waiting at home. It was very good to be alive!

It was at that moment that Glen saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye…

[onlyontwo]

HOLY CRAP! I can't handle this Greg. Great work as always.



Cheers,
Andy

[PacMan]

Awesome awesome awesome. Thanks so much for this!!!

[Rob]

Good stuff!

[back of the pack]

The bezel, I should have known

[RustyIron]

Dude, that's one fine bit o' wordsmithin'.

It's surely worthy of submission for publication in one of the magazines. You put in so much effort writing it, it would be a shame if your work didn't get maximum exposure.

[foofighter]

bravo Gregg Bravo!!!

[OMR]

Originally Posted by PacMan

Awesome awesome awesome. Thanks so much for this!!!

this was really written for you guys...

[un-kola]

That was a great story.I like the ending.- Lloyd

[OMR]

Originally Posted by RustyIron

Dude, that's one fine bit o' wordsmithin'.

It's surely worthy of submission for publication in one of the magazines. You put in so much effort writing it, it would be a shame if your work didn't get maximum exposure.

I think you'd have to be a biking fan to really get the drift of the story

[un-kola]

Originally Posted by OMR

I think you'd have to be a biking fan to really get the drift of the story

That's why I think it would do great in a magazine like Bike.- Lloyd

[slowSSer]

Originally Posted by un-kola

That's why I think it would do great in a magazine like Bike.- Lloyd

no kidding- DirtRag would probably publish this in a heartbeat!

thanks Gregg!

[RustyIron]

Originally Posted by OMR

this was really written for you guys...

I know Old Men try to be cavalier about fame and glory, but c'mon... don't tell us you don't dig having your work enjoyed by the masses.

And what about your Grasshoppers? They'd be stoked to open up a magazine see the wisdom of their sensei in print.

Take pity on the editors--give them some fresh material for their otherwise drab rags--and allow readers from around the world to quench their thirsts for enlightenment at the fountain of your prose.

[OMR]

Sounds of arm being twisted...

Hey, I love glory and recognition as much as the next guy... but actually, that was not the real reason I wrote this story... it was for my STR riding buddies... but I'll probably see if there is any interest in printing it... as I enjoyed reading the story as well...